


My Breath Keeps on Stopping

by Itanohira



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Prostitute!Romano, Romance, idk what else, main pairing: Spamano, prosititute!AU, spamano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itanohira/pseuds/Itanohira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't mean to fall in love with him. Spamano, prostitute!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Breath Keeps on Stopping

**Author's Note:**

> "The night sky always seemed too big; too full of stars, too beautiful, too perfect. Lovino couldn't stand it - night meant a cold, lonely time in his tiny, dirty apartment - or worse yet, another client. He is not letting his guard down around his newest client - a bright, warm, and passionate Spaniard who shouldn't have to pay to be in Lovino's arms tonight."
> 
> Main: Spain/Romano, Side:Physical!Portugal/Romano Physical!Everyone/Romano

_My Breath Keeps on Stopping_

_part i_

Night had fallen.

Milky moonlight flooded the city's dank backstreets; a thin, willowy figure leaned against an old brick wall, the red brick washed out into a dull brown in the dim street light.

Bad things came out in the night; evil things, superstitious things; things that decent people did not want to mess with, nor associate with. Among these where those that lingered in the streets after the sun had been tucked away under horizon, the ones who let men get a snippet of the tantalizing skin under skimpy clothing, always teasing and never getting touched – unless money was involved. Money seemed to be at the core of such matters.

And Lovino was no different.

Lovino's fingers tapped on the surface he leaned on, trying to unsuccessfully keep his frame warm. Delicate fingers lifted a long burnt out cigarette to his partially chapped lips, and he breathed in thick smoke in an attempt to keep warm, in an attempt to squeeze out a few more drags until it inevitably became a useless stump of rolled paper. He shrugged his patchy coat higher, and shuddered; the cold breeze seemed to pass right through him – it freezed his insides with its bitter chill, like ice water running thick and sharp through his veins. He carelessly discarded the cigarette with shaky fingers, and smothered it with the heel of his boot.

The Italian straightened up, and tried to make himself look presentable; back straight, hair ruffled to side, chest puffed out slightly. He knew he lacked certain assets that men drooled over – namely, the prominent breasts that other prostitutes had – but who wanted two globs of fat pressed against their cock anyways? He snorted, and his eyelids lowered as he offered himself to his poison of choice, to foolish men with full pockets, men willing to stray from the path and spend a night with him in a dark little apartment. His fingers lifted to deftly tug the collar of his white shirt to expose a thin expanse of olive skin, and Lovino ignored the scorching cold gust that licked the area.

Predictably, most of the men shied from his open display, and some even scoffed, turned their heads away and tried to walk by as fast as they could. Lovino wished he could say he didn't _give a damn_ , but every man who walked away from him was a few bucks that slipped through his grasping fingers. Annoyed, and ready to leave the chilly, near-empty street corner, he pushed himself the wall and made his way to another busy street, one that he had much luck in finding customers before. His numb fingers fumbled with the buttons on his coat, and he quietly cursed when they slipped.

"D-dammit…" He murmured, venom and passion lost in the cold. In a weak attempt to keep himself warm, he pulled his coat together, and wrapped thin arms around his torso to keep warm. As soon as his feet hit the corner of the street, he stopped, and leaned against the streetlight. Lovino glanced around, and found this area nearly empty of people and potential customers. He couldn't go home yet – he had no customers, he had no money, and he couldn't go back to his lonely apartment all by himself. Not for a second night in a row.

He shifted his weight. He checked the time. Watched moths flutter around the light above him, waited.

Suddenly, large, warm arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he stiffened, startled. It only lasted for a split-second; he loosened up and thanked his luck, shifted in the man's embrace, and was met with light green eyes.

"João," Lovino breathed out, fingers digging into the soft cloth of his shirt. His hand went up to cup his favorite customer's cheek. "I didn't think you'd come back so soon."

"Yeah," João gave a small laugh. "It was fast, but I'd rather not talk about it." The taller man carded a hand through Lovino's hair, and he leaned to press a kiss on his neck.

Lovino smiled, mouth twisted up with a saccharine curve, careful to not let the bitterness stain his tone. "Why don't you let me help you forget?"

-x-

They stumbled into his barren apartment, hands searching, fingers pressing, plucking clothes off. With a sharp twist, Lovino's top was wrenched open; he could feel a button or two pop off, and Lovino flushed with irritation.

"You're pay – _oh_! – ing for that!" João bit down on his shoulder, and Lovino gasped as he was suddenly lifted onto the other man's shoulder. João gave a firm slap to his ass, and was pleased by Lovino's yelp. "F- _fuck_ , would it kill you to be gentler?"

The man just gave Lovino one of his smirk-smiles and dumped him unceremoniously onto the thin mattress, and let his arms fall on both sides of the Italian, caging him in with his body. "Not really," he pressed an open mouthed kiss to Lovino's neck. "I missed this."

"Of course," Lovino replied easily. With a practiced grace he lifted his arms above his head with a small smirk. João muttered a soft expletive and smashed their mouths together, tongue and teeth clashing fiercely, stealing a ragged breath from Lovino's swollen lips. The Italian turned his head to the side as João pulled away, lips hot as it trailed down a slender neck. "João." The man didn't stop in his ministrations as he continued on with tender bites and kisses. " _João_. Fuck, stop that shit and just fuck me already –"

He let sucked in a breath as he was suddenly flipped onto his stomach, and held himself on shaky hands and knees. He squirmed when his worn out pants were being pulled off, and tried to shimmy out of them, closing his eyes as the worn fabric bushed against his calves. A large, rough hand spread his thighs, and Lovino gasped when he felt something slick press against him; the man behind him burned for him, promising some cold cash for a warm night. Lovino let out another shuddering breath, and focused his gaze on his spread out fingers, and then back up to his bed's discolored headboard.

 _Fuck_ , he needed another smoke.

-x-

All he could think was _at least I didn't come home alone_. His body was like liquid heat cooling down against the man pressed against him. His muscles felt lax as he stretched lazily, sated. João's tanned arm draped over his chest, and Lovino threaded his fingers through his customer's long hair. With his other hand, he twirled an unlit cigarette nimbly between his fingers. Lazily, he breathed out, "Don't you have to be heading home?"

João merely pressed his face into Lovino's dark hair. "Can't I just stay here, tonight?" Lovino did not say anything right away, and contented himself to listen to the heartbeat pressed against his ear.

"…In my dirty little apartment?" Lovino finally mused, hair mussed as he propped himself up on his elbows. "I'm still open, y'know. I have other customers to attend to." João made a face at this.

"You're very beautiful," The other man started, and Lovino inwardly scoffed. Green eyes glanced over to the Italian. "I'd take you in."

Lovino laughed, a hard, sharp sound, but otherwise kept his nonchalant façade up. Lovino's thin fingers curled around the still unlit cigarette. "You know I hate being tied down," he said smoothly. "I dunno about you but… respectable business men don't take in prostitutes." Lovino closed his eyes, and felt the other's muscles ripple as he shrugged. "Male prostitutes especially."

"I could care less as long as your body was mine."

Lovino's fingers loosened on the cigarette as he reached over to reach for the lighter on the rickety bed stand, and lit the rolled paper. The end of the cigarette smoldered, and it lit up bright orange when he breathed in.

If João was willing, why not? Despite his previous answer, he couldn't see anything wrong with it – a stable income, as long as João stayed interested, a warm home, a warm bed – "I'll think about it." Lovino said breathily, letting out a thick whisp of smoke. João turned away from him on the small full sized mattress.

"I hate it whenever you smoke."

Lovino leisurely glanced at João, a small, bitter smile making his lips crooked. "And you want me to live with you?" He let himself fall back onto the bed, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "Get out already," he said tiredly. "I'm not letting you stay the night – I have to get up early tomorrow, and I don't want to deal with you in the morning."

João shrugged, and held Lovino's lax body close. He let go and slipped from the covers, naked. As he bent over to pick up his clothes, Lovino blew out smoke, and enjoyed the view. Soft, washed-out tendrils of smoke floated around, and choked the air in the apartment. João left, without so much as a look back, and the click of the door closing was the last sound before silence enveloped the small apartment. Lovino stretched again, but tried to keep most of his body underneath the thinning comforter as he tried to salvage whatever heat João left behind.

He tapped the cigarette against the ash tray on the bed stand, and let out swirling gray smoke. He watched it rise up to the ceiling, barely kissing it before it dissipated out of sight. He sighed, and jadedly slipped out from the covers, just enough to reach over and smother the rolled paper inside the ash tray. Lovino's eyes searched for the bills João left behind; it was right behind the tray, and he grabbed the wad. After he finished counting, he hid a pleased smile under the covers, content that the older man had snuck in a few extra bills in addition to the original payment. He deposited the money into the only drawer in the night stand, and fell back into bed. Lovino pulled up the blanket, so that it covered him from head to toe. A few stray threads scratched his cheek as he closed his eyes, waiting for morning to come.

-x-

Bright sunshine filtered through his dusty curtains, and Lovino peeked out of his blanket at his dusty alarm clock. Ten o' clock. The walls of his room were stained pastel yellow by the the light as he groggily tried to wake up. It was way too early to get up by his usual standards, but today was Sunday, and Sunday mornings meant the farmer's market was in town – the only time of the week Lovino could _quality_ vegetables; despite his low living qualities, good food was one of the only things Lovino would let himself have the luxury of.

He let his legs slide off the bed, and stretched, muscles trembling as he raised his arms high above his head, his legs stiff as he tried to shake off the sleep and slight soreness from the night before. He lithely stepped onto the cold linoleum floor, toes curling, and barefoot, he stepped to his dresser and pulled out a pair of old jeans and a ratty sweater. He stuffed a fraction of the cash João had left for him, making sure he had more than enough. He fingered the bulge in his wallet thoughtfully, grateful that João had found him the night before.

Lovino strode out and locked his door, laughing quietly, because, _fuck_ , this day was starting so well.

Even if the day had started well, he was still late to the market; the crowd was still pretty large, and he had trouble not only maneuvering through the crowd, but also holding his tongue. He swore, if _one more damn kid_ bumped into him, he would-

"Ah, shit-!" Someone bumped into him, _hard,_ and he dropped his paper bag of vegetables. "What the fuck?" He growled as he bent over to pick up the vegetables. Tanned hands joined his, and he scowled. The Italian looked up from his position on his knees, and stared at a similarly crouched person – but what struck him the most was the brilliant green eyes that were staring into his own.

"Ah, sorry!" The man apologized, teeth flashing bright white. Sheepishly, he handed Lovino a bruised tomato. Lovino felt his frown deepen as he looked back down to focus on picking up his produce; so much for a good morning.  "Are you okay?"

Lovino looked back up, snatching the rest of his zucchinis. "Does it look like I'm fucking okay?" He barked, standing up. He turned abruptly making sure he _accidentally_ stepped on the man's foot. Though, the man's startled grunt did nothing to make him feel better.

Throwing the bruised tomato at his head did, though. _What an idiot._

He stomped back to his apartment, ignoring the green eyed man's apologies – he snorted – he was ready to go back to bed and get ready for another night of work. Money was to be made; men were to be pleased; and to do both, is what Lovino knew best.


End file.
